


Perfectly Imperfect

by catlavellan



Series: Mystic Messenger Drabbles [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, everyone but yoosung and mc are pretty much just mentioned, good ending, retelling of good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:18:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlavellan/pseuds/catlavellan
Summary: MC goes through a lot at the RFA party, but nothing compares to the feeling she gets the first time she meets Yoosung.





	Perfectly Imperfect

She absent-mindedly tugged her dress down where it had begun to ride up her thighs. Her palms were sweating, and she was seriously regretting the off-the-shoulder gown that she thought would be so elegant.

_Yoosung’s hurt._

The phrase echoed through her mind as Seven tried not to sob into her bare shoulder. She tightened her grip in his shockingly bright hair and her eyes went unfocused…  _he’s hurt._

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to look.  _Zen,_ a voice supplied through the ringing in her head. Sweet, flirtatious, Zen.

“Hey, we’re going to go to the hospital to see Yoosung, do you want to come?” He asked. Reaching towards him, she returned the steadying grip that he had placed on her bicep, grounding herself. After a beat, he pulled her (and Seven) to his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she settled her forehead against him. No sobs came–just gasping breaths that left her lungs aching and her head light. She could hear Jumin and Jaehee making plans with him faintly, but she was so lost inside her own head. How hadn’t she noticed? They spoke on the phone; she  _knew_ he sounded different than usual.  _God,_ she was such an idiot.

She almost didn’t hear Zen when he noticed V, but he turned her around and pointed the blue-haired man out for her. She watched with them in confusion as V directed the whole party at their group.  

“I wanted to take this opportunity to show the love….for all the precious members of RFA.” V said from the stage. Jumin pushed past Seven and Zen, ending up next to her.

           “What is he trying to do?” He asked, seemingly more rhetorically than actually directed to anyone.

           “I introduce to you, the youngest member of RFA, Yoosung Kim.”

Every muscle around her heart clenched, and suddenly she thought she might pass out. V’s arm rested on the back of a skinny blonde boy with an eyepatch. Despite it, he was….smiling. Ridiculously, at that. The outrageous dork that she loved had been half-blinded, and he was smiling at her like she was the sun.

There it was– the absolutely enchanting shade of violet that she had been dreaming about for the past week.  _God,_ was it ridiculous of her to think she was in love with a boy she’d only known for a week?  _Of course it was,_ she knew that, but something about seeing him on the stage, pulling at the cuffs of his dress shirt brought it all back.

           “I later had to acknowledge that her kindness and care…completely took my heart. I liked her so much that I wasn’t afraid to get hurt if it was for her. So…don’t look so worried about my eye, I was glad to be able to sacrifice myself for you. I will cherish you more. I’ll always become better for you. So you never regret being with me….I’ll give you my heart.”

She didn’t even realize that she was crying until she felt a tear hit her arm where it was wrapped around her middle. The crowd parted, and before she knew it, he was standing not three feet in front of her. “H-hi…” he said, heart-achingly sweetly.

“Yoosung…” she replied shakily, not quite believing herself.

           “I’m glad you’re safe,” he intoned with a step in her direction.  _That_  woke her up.

           “Me?! You’re the one who got seriously injured on some half-cocked suicide mission and the  _lied_ to us about being hurt–“

           “Uh…Yoosung? Aren’t you getting too close?” Zen asked from somewhere beside her, making her stop short, realizing just how close the blonde actually was. He had grabbed her hands from where she had been gesticulating wildly and was now mere inches away from her face.

           “I wanted to see you so much,” he whispered, resting a hand on her cheek.

           “You….” she mumbled, on the tails of her rant. Before she could say any more, he slipped his hand around to the back of her neck, bracing the other on her hip, and pulled her flush against him. He caught any sounds of surprise she might have made by firmly planting his mouth against hers. She overcame her shock and allowed herself to relax into it. He wasn’t as timid as she had imagined him being, kissing her with a perfect balance of melt-worthy sweetness and bruising desperation.  _Wow,_ had she waited for this moment. It was perfect–the way his fingers fisted in her hair, the warmth of his other hand on her hip, the soft sigh he let out as he pulled away, and the way the smell of him, sweet, and soft, and fresh, lingered around her like a cloud and left her dazed. He was smiling at her again as she looked at him owlishly, and she knew that smile was  _dangerous,_ because a smile like that could light up her whole world, as it certainly already had.

           The other members teased them as they danced and reveled for the rest of the night, giddy and floating on kisses and champagne that neither of them could afford. They left the party hand-in-hand, and stayed up, cross-legged, talking on the couch until the first rays of dawn crept through the window. It was practically day time when she fell asleep against his chest, his arms wrapped gently around her waist, and his face snuggled into the crook of her neck.

It was  _wildly_ uncomfortable. But it was theirs, and it was perfect.


End file.
